


I find war, and I find peace

by lumoshyperion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoshyperion/pseuds/lumoshyperion
Summary: For the prompt "too loud" I wanted to explore how Harry and Ginny are dealing with the aftermath of the wizarding war, together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	I find war, and I find peace

"And I see war on the screen,  
And it is cruel and unclean.  
But I still worry more about you."  
\- Flesh and Bone, Keaton Henson

Harry was surprised to find how much he hated being idle after the Wizarding War ended. He’d spent so long, dreaming of days like this one. Days where he knew everyone he loved was safe. Days where he could sleep in as long as he liked, eat whenever he liked, do whatever he liked. But he found himself constantly restless and uncomfortable when he had nothing to do, and especially when he was alone. It wasn’t something he’d mentioned to anyone else, although he wondered if Hermione or Ron felt the same way. And he knew that Ginny was aware of it. She never said anything about it, but she was always giving him things to do around the flat when she was away. While a part of him hated the idea of being a burden like that, he was still grateful for the distraction.

The flat was in an old, miserable building just outside of London. The hot water didn’t always work, the wood around the kitchen window was rotting, and the sounds of the main street below could be heard at all hours of the day. But it was a home, and it was theirs. Harry had never had a house of his own. He’d inherited 12 Grimmauld Place from Sirius, but had no idea what to do with it. The memories were too loud. They stretched through the walls and empty spaces like veins of a beating heart, pounding in his head as he worked at renovating the house. 

It was Arthur Weasley’s suggestion to remodel the house before deciding what to do with it. It was hard work, stripping curses from behind the wallpaper and constantly running into ghosts both real and imagined. But it kept Harry busy, and that was all that really mattered. He’d almost considered going down to finish one of the bedrooms while Ginny was training, but decided to stay home and make sure dinner was ready when she got back. Cooking was something he’d grown to enjoy more and more over the months since the war ended. He spent so much time with Molly, helping her cook for the extended Weasley clan, that he was bound to learn to love it at some point. 

But what Harry really loved, more than anything, was cooking for Ginny. And it was when he realised that he wanted to spend the rest of his life, watching her eat meals he had made for her, that they had finally moved in together. 

He hadn’t decided what to make for dinner just yet, although he’d already started tossing some chicken in a fry pan. He was considering his options when the smoke alarm suddenly went off and he almost scalded himself when he dropped the spatula in fright. Fumbling with his wand, he cast an angry silencing charm, before tossing it on the table and running a hand through his hair. They’d been having trouble with the alarm ever since they moved in. He’d been meaning to ask Arthur to take a look at it, but he hadn’t gotten around to it just yet. 

The chicken wasn’t burned. The alarm was just overly sensitive to smoke. Still, Harry stared at it, as it sizzled in the oil of the fry pan. He wondered if it was always that loud, or if he was only just noticing that in the silence following the sound of the smoke alarm going off. But there was a dull ringing in his ears, too, and he was suddenly so aware of the sounds from the street below. 

He couldn’t tell the difference between the thrum of music from the pub around the corner and the sound of his heart beating in his ears. 

He was distantly aware of what was happening to him before he broke out in a cold sweat as his vision started to blur. It had happened many times before, but he’d never been alone when it did. There was always someone there to pull him through it.

He could already smell the dust and sweat. When he closed his eyes, he could see the ashen faces of his classmates, of Remus, and Tonks, and Fred. He could hear shrill, familiar laughter as spells shot past him and hit stone walls of the place he grew up in. The small kitchen melted away. He grasped the bench, leaning over it until his forehead touched the cool surface. He clung to the reality of it until warm hands gently pulled him away and guided him into another room.

He came to, with his head between his legs, in the lounge room of the flat. As he sat up and leaned back into the couch, he didn’t have to glance over to know that Ginny was sitting next to him. He could hear her breathing and feel her hand in his.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, his voice low and weak. “I don’t - know why that happened.”

“It’s alright,” Ginny replied. “It’s been a while, since your last one.”

“Not much of an achievement, is it?” He scoffed, bitterly. But Ginny didn’t reply, so he turned his head and looked at her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was still wearing her Quidditch gear. And she looked tired. “Sorry. It’s just - It’s been over a year.“

“I know,” She replied, quietly, as she fiddled with the drawstring on her jacket sleeve. “I still find it so hard spending time at the Burrow. It just feels so - empty. Even when it’s full of people. Even when we’re happy.”

Wordlessly, Harry pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair. Sometimes he watched her - when she thought he wasn't looking, when her eyes glazed over and her face was full of an overwhelming sadness - and he felt guilty for ever feeling mournful or lost. Like he was a voyeur, and he had no right to the same grief she and her family were experiencing. But Harry was too familiar with that sort of loss. 

They sat like that, for a while, as the sounds of the street below and the pub round the corner filtered through the empty flat. Confronted with endless time and nothing to do with it, he suddenly wished he was back at Hogwarts, before everything had happened. He wished they were in the Gryffindor common room, instead of a dingy old flat outside London. And he wished that he could invite her to a game of exploding snap, rather than comfort her over the loss of one of her brothers. Perhaps Hermione had the right idea when she decided to go back and finish her studies.

Suddenly, Ginny lifted her head and gave him a quizzical look as she sniffed the air. 

Harry groaned, the smell of burned chicken suddenly occurring to him. "That would be dinner."

"Mmm," she mumbled, a mischievous smile on her face. "Smells delicious."

"I'm sure I can try and salvage it, if I just-"

Harry had started to get up, before Ginny pushed him back down and stood up herself. "No, it's fine. I'll go throw out your masterpiece and then we can order takeaway and watch a movie?"

He smiled up at her, still holding her hand in his. "I'm lucky to have you, aren't I?"

" _Extremely_."

**Author's Note:**

> title is from flesh and bone by keaton henson. this is my first time publishing a fic from harry's pov, so please go easy on me!


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